I am Now Leaving Obese City

Am I really that fat? That question seems to pop into my head a lot these days whenever I walk past a mirror or see a recent photo.

I have been thinking of losing weight for almost all of my adult life. There is only that many ‘it’s in the genes’ excuses I can give. I have to admit, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been happy with my weight. I can remember as far back as secondary school (might have been about 15) and worrying about my jelly belly and love handles even though I think I was about a size 12 then. The cruel truth is when I was a kid and dreaming about selling tomatoes, I also loved love handles on women!! And now, I’d gladly endure painful surgery to take it all away.

Losing weight is oh soooo difficult! I really can’t stand all the stupid women's magazines with covers screaming silly promises like "Lose 20 Pounds in 3 Weeks Without Dieting, It's Easy!" Well, it's not easy to lose weight and keep it off. And I hate it when the perky people in the magazines try to imply that it's just a matter of finding the right "solution" and then, presto! Steamed chicken and vegetables is all of a sudden more appealing than a big tub of Haagen Dazs? Setting the alarm for 4:30am to get to the gym before work is going to become a fun new part of the daily routine? Reeeeally? Kiss my fat black ass liars!

For some time, I was kinda stuck at size 16; sometimes lucky to go down to the fat side of 14 and then I moved back to Ghana and I’m kissing size 18 full smack in the face and I feel like I’m gon say hello to 20 soon!! I’m upset with myself but oh still defiant when people comment. I think making comments about people’s weight is very rude and Ghanaians are great with this. Why do people think it is ok to say something about someone’s weight? Like you think I don’t know? You don’t think it’s a personal issue and you aren’t that close enough as a friend to have the privilege of telling me I’ve put on weight in my face? And those scallywags selling weight-loss medicine at the trade fairs and mall, who walk boldly up to you and tell you they are selling something they know you need. My mom has a ready insult for them each time involving the words ‘fuck’ and ‘off’.

I don’t enjoy being overweight, I don’t enjoy not being able to cross my legs comfortably, I don’t enjoy struggling to pull on my skinny jeans (yes, they make it for us fatsos too), I don’t enjoy sweating a bucket-load every morning when I get out of the shower, I don’t enjoy seeing my tummy wobble below me when we are doing it doggy style and I don’t enjoy waving those things which look like dinosaur (the flying type) wings which used to be called arms. I sooo want to be just 2 sizes smaller but I don’t know how I can fit losing weight into my daily routine. The food I am working on; reducing my daily food intake/portion sizes etc. It is the inactivity that is killing me and slowly turning me into the female version of the Elephant Man. In the UK, I was walking/running to the bus stop or train station. In Ghana, I’m walking to my car, walking to my front door, walking from the couch/bed to the loo and back; considerably shorter distances and it’s all gone into my belly, arms and thighs.

Everything seems to be up against my little efforts to live a better life:

• I seem to retain water more than the Akosombo dam
• I never was a chocolate person but colleagues at work are always giving away toffees, chocolates and soda
• Persistent sample girl at Shoprite force-feeding me pork sausages and Four Cousins wine
• Friends ringing me up early in the morning literally forcing me to meet them at Melting Moments for a full English breakfast (you know who you are Sally, Ann and Lamisi)
• Four Cousin Wine makers bringing out wine in humongous bottles! I mean how?? You know I’m gon buy it and finish it in less than 48 hrs.
• Stuck in traffic jam on my way home and all these hawkers waving sugar-cane, potato chips and biscuits in my face. I mean we need to buy their stuff to help them make a living right? I’m just doing my bit for society.

I saw this list somewhere ‘Losing Weight is Like Childbirth’:

• Lots of screaming, crying and cussing along the way.
• It’s a process that feels like is never going to end.
• There’s a voice telling you “Push! Push!”
• Doctors think they have all the answers, but people have been doing it without them for centuries.
• You’ll soon have a bunch of clothes that are too big for you.
• There are a million books on the subject.
• It was more fun to get in the situation you’re in than to get out of it.
• Spouse thinks they know what you’re going through but they don’t.
• It helps if you’ve got someone there to lend you support.
• Drugs are optional.
• If you’re healthy, there’s no reason you can’t do it.
• There’s quite a bit of labour involved.
• It’s probably the most important thing you’ll ever do.
• It’s a real pain in the bottom.
• If all goes well, a brand new life emerges.

Sooooooooooooooo true but I’d rather go through childbirth than try losing weight and failing. I hate failing at something and so sometimes I’d rather not try at all. It’s this bad: I used to worry about the thought of losing a spouse after many blissful yrs of marriage together so I considered not getting married at all and saving myself the inevitable heartache. Unless of course I kill my husband for abusing me; well that will be justice and I would expect a Nobel Peace prize for that.

I went to see my doctor some weeks ago about my feet that have been swelling up and down like a see-saw for the past few months. We had a long chat; he made me undress and poked me all over the place, belly, back, joints etc checking if my organs are the normal sizes. After enduring the poking round for several minutes he then says he would like to do further tests as he is not confident he is getting through to my organs through the fat!!! For fuck’s sake!! So? I've got fat everywhere, just in case you haven't noticed. He could have saved himself and me the inconvenience of seeing my naked fat body by just going straight to the blood tests.

Well all the blood tests came back normal apart from the Liver Function Test. And may I also mention that getting the blood out for the tests was excruciating! They couldn’t find a vein through the fat! I was pricked all over the place (usually I don’t mind being ‘pricked’ outside of a hospital) before finally getting through into a vein.

When I went for the test results, he went on about the abnormal reading in the Liver function test and not knowing the real reason why it is that high; though it is not high enough to be alarming or think it could be liver failure or whatever. But he moved onto the subject of stopping drinking alcohol and losing weight. He said that in most cases like these the best way to turn things around is to lose weight, lose weight, lose weight, stop drinking, stop drinking, stop drinking. Really, during the entire consultation, he must've said "lose weight" and “stop drinking” 50 times. Okay, okay - baby seal to the club - enough all - fucking-ready!!! I get it - lose weight, stop drinking or else!!

But back to reality - I really, really need to lose weight. No kidding. Everything that's wrong with my life now is because of my weight: my low(ish) body-image, my aching and cranky bones, being out of breath after a little exertion, heated conversations with my husband, my abnormal liver function etc. But struggling to button up my size 18 TM Lewin shirt some days ago has added pressure that has got me flipping out to the point of feeling really anxious - like I've got some landmine in my gut. It's the same anxious feeling that would have me traipsing to the fridge in search of some comfort. Well, that's out. I'd take up knitting but I'm afraid I'd stab somebody with the needle when I get frustrated or stressed if the pounds don’t fall off quickly enough. And hey - isn't stress/cortisol not good for weight loss? Ah yes - the old Catch 22.

I know I need to quit giving excuses and thinking of ways to sabotage my husband’s personal weight loss efforts (Dear Chief, why do you think I was cooking roasts on Sundays and marsh potatoes laden with butter and full cream???).

I’m all about positive and realistic goal setting, so I am not gon set the bar too high. I figured a half-pound loss would be a do-able achievement over seven days. What if I lose more than the half-pound? Whoop de doo, I will be awesome and I could award myself some fat-free brownie points.

Well, I'm going to have to keep it together long enough to lose some more weight and keep it off. The wake-up call has come and the snooze button is no longer operational. I think this is what the bottom looks like.